


Finding a Friend

by MsLadySmith



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 11:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14019606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLadySmith/pseuds/MsLadySmith
Summary: From the FB writing prompt:  Mycroft takes on Lady Smallwood's offer.In Season 4, Episode 2, Lady Smallwood gives Mycroft her private number, suggesting he call her if he'd 'like a drink sometime.'  This is what happens when he takes her up on it.





	Finding a Friend

Mycroft sat silently in his study, holding his glass of bourbon up to the firelight, gazing at it intently. 

Sentiment.  Sherlock held John’s friendship very dear, even if he wouldn’t admit it.  He faked his own death to protect John, and Detective Inspector Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, and Dr. Hooper’s help in orchestrating the Fall had been crucial.  All of them were now giving freely of their time to help guide Sherlock through his recovery, as well.  Because that’s what friends do, he was told.

Mycroft had no friends.

He pulled Lady Smallwood’s business card from his coat pocket, turning it absently through his fingers.

He picked up his phone, and dialed.

* * *

Mycroft sat in a quiet corner of the small French restaurant, brushing invisible lint from his black waistcoat nervously.  He had asked Lady Smallwood to meet him here this evening, with an offer of dinner and drinks, as per her suggestion.

He looked up as the maître d led his guest to the table, an expression of amazement crossing his face. 

Rather than her normal austere dark suit, Lady Smallwood was wearing a pale blue cocktail dress that flowed delicately over her hips.  Her blonde hair, usually tucked up tightly, was hanging loose across her shoulders.  As she approached the table, he rose, reverently taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. 

“You look lovely this evening, Lady Smallwood,” he said quietly as she took her seat, and he sat across from her.  The maître d smiled and left them.

Lady Smallwood blushed demurely.  “Thank you, Mycroft.  Please, call me Alicia.  This is a social engagement, after all.”  She ran her fingers along the stem of her water glass.

The sommelier arrived with a bottle of 2008 Lafite Rothschild, and poured a glass for each of them.  “I hope you don’t mind,” Mycroft said, raising his glass.   Alicia raised hers as well, “To friends,” she said, with a nod. 

Mycroft froze for a moment, then nodded.  They both took a sip of the wine.  Alicia smiled at him.

“You are uncomfortable,” she said simply, setting down her glass.

Mycroft’s cheeks flushed.  “I suppose I am,” he answered quietly.  “I am… unsure how to proceed.”

Alicia reached over and touched his hand softly.  “This is merely wine and a meal between friends, Mycroft.  You’ve not agreed to anything else.”

Mycroft relaxed a little.  He’d worried that she expected a more intimate evening than he was ready to provide.

The waiter arrived to take their dinner orders, and disappeared as efficiently as he’d arrived.

They sat in awkward silence, when Alicia spoke.  “How is your brother?  I understand he had a relapse… something about a case?” She took a sip of her wine.

“Yes, he did.  Apparently, the relapse was part of some plan to entice Dr. Watson back into his life.  For the moment, at least, Sherlock is sober, and Dr. Watson has returned to spending time with him.”

“And what of Dr. Watson’s daughter?”

“Sherlock seems quite enamored of her.  She is… an infant.” Mycroft shrugged.  Having never spent time with an infant since his younger siblings were born, he did not see the attraction.

Alicia nodded.  “I understand.  I, too, have never understood people’s fascination with babies.” 

Mycroft looked at her, surprised.  She scoffed, “Seriously, Mycroft.  Being female does not automatically give me a maternal instinct.  I have never had an interest in children.  David knew that when he married me.”

“And yet, you have a daughter…”

“Yes.  She is David’s daughter from his previous marriage, and was already a teenager when we married.  She and I have remained friends since…” she trailed off.  David’s suicide after the details of his affair with the young Catherine Driscol were published by Charles Magnussen was a painful subject.

The waiter returned, delivering their meals and refilling their wine glasses, and again disappeared.

The meal was excellent, as expected – Mycroft personally knew the chef at this restaurant, having assisted him in the past with some immigration paperwork.  As a result, Mycroft knew that he would provide excellent dishes, and he was not disappointed.

After they had finished, Mycroft escorted Alicia to the front of the restaurant, where her driver was waiting.  “Thank you for dinner, Mycroft,” she said quietly, kissing him on the cheek as her driver opened the car door for her, and she got inside. 

Mycroft stood on the kerb, stunned to silence by Alicia’s actions, as he watched her car drive away.

* * *

Mycroft and his mother walked into the lobby during the intermission.  “Oh, isn’t the music just WONDERFUL, Mykie?” Mrs. Holmes crooned.  Mycroft cringed, both at the shortening of his name and at her sentiment about the music, but tried to smile pleasantly.  Sherlock had bought their mother a pair of tickets to Mamma Mia! for her birthday, and since Father had managed to avoid attending, Mycroft got roped into accompanying her.

“I am so pleased you are enjoying the show, Mummy.  Let me get you a glass of wine,” Mycroft quickly turned and headed to the bar. 

“Why, Mr. Holmes!” called a familiar voice.  “I am surprised to find you here!” Lady Smallwood greeted him from a spot next to the bar, a young, dark-haired woman standing beside her. 

“Good evening, Lady Smallwood,” Mycroft replied.  “And this must be Evelyn… so pleased to meet you.” He gallantly took her hand and kissed her knuckles, resulting in a smile and blush from Lady Smallwood’s step-daughter. 

Turning to Lady Smallwood, he explained, “My brother gave our mother tickets to this performance for her birthday.”  Lady Smallwood chuckled, recognizing the forced smile on his face.  She leaned in close as she passed Mycroft the two glasses of wine from the bartender.  “Do you have plans after the show?”

Mycroft stood silently in surprise.  “Well… I…” he stammered uncertainly.

Lady Smallwood rested her hand on his shoulder and laughed.  “I think we are both going to need a drink when this travesty of a musical is over, and I’d rather not drink alone.” 

Mycroft smiled, relieved.  “I believe you are correct.  Perhaps my driver can take Mummy and Evelyn home, and your driver can take us to the nearest bar?”

“An excellent plan, Mr. Holmes.  We shall meet you outside after the show, then.” Lady Smallwood said, sliding her hand seductively down his arm, and rejoining her step-daughter.

Mycroft nodded numbly as Lady Smallwood and Evelyn disappeared into the crowd, and returned to where Mummy was waiting, handing her one of the glasses of wine as they returned to their seats.

* * *

After the show ended, Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes stepped out of the theater to wait for his driver.  Lady Smallwood and her step-daughter appeared alongside them, and the appropriate introductions were made.  Mrs. Holmes and Evelyn had fallen into immediate conversation about the musical, which they had both thoroughly enjoyed, when Mycroft’s driver arrived. 

“Mummy, why don’t I let Matthew drive you and Ms. Smallwood home?  Lady Smallwood and I have a few things to discuss,” Mycroft said in a gentle – and he hoped, convincing – tone.

Mrs. Holmes looked at Mycroft with a critical eye – he wasn’t fooling her for a moment. “Certainly, Mykie,” she cooed, reaching for Evelyn’s arm.  “Evelyn and I can chat on the way home, right, my dear?” Evelyn glanced at Lady Smallwood, who nodded in approval, and Mrs. Holmes and Evelyn climbed into the car, while Mycroft gave Matthew his instructions.

“Thank goodness that is over,” Lady Smallwood sighed in relief as the car pulled away from the kerb.  “Shall we numb the pain of that musical now?”

“Definitely,” Mycroft smiled at her pleasantly, taking her arm as they walked toward her car.  Her driver stepped out and opened the door for them, and they climbed in. 

“How did you get stuck attending this evening’s show?” Mycroft asked as the car pulled into the flow of traffic.  “By our brief conversation, I suspect you would rather have been elsewhere.”

“Last month was Evelyn’s birthday.  Her boyfriend Timothy bought her a pair of tickets for tonight’s show, intending to attend with her.  Unfortunately, he got called in to work at the hospital at the last minute, so he asked me to take the second ticket.” Lady Smallwood sighed.  “I couldn’t very well refuse…”

Mycroft chuckled.  “Another person who is willing to nobly fall on their sword for the benefit of another…”

“Someone has to do it, right?” Lady Smallwood replied, putting her hand on Mycroft’s knee. 

The car slowed, and Mycroft looked out the window, surprised to find that the car was pulling into Lady Smallwood’s driveway.

“Alicia…” he stammered nervously.

She pressed her finger to his lips, to silence him.  “I promised you drinks, Mycroft, and I happen to have a very nice bottle of Courvoisier Napoleon that demands to be shared,” she replied, as her driver opened the car door and she led Mycroft into her home. 

Entering the sitting room, she motioned for Mycroft to take a seat on the sofa, as she walked over to the bar and collected two tumblers and the bottle of cognac, carrying them to the coffee table in front of the sofa.  Taking a seat next to Mycroft, close enough that their knees were barely touching, she leaned forward and poured them each a glass.

“To friends,” Mycroft said unsteadily, raising his glass.  Lady Smallwood nodded, and tapped her glass to his.  They both took a long, slow sip of the cognac, savouring the rich flavor. 

Mycroft stared into his tumbler.  “How have you been… since…” he asked quietly.

Lady Smallwood took another sip.  “I have been well, considering.  Thank you for asking.” Her husband’s untimely death weighed heavily on her, and she hadn’t spoken to anyone about it – not even Evelyn, who was also grieving.  “But sometimes… I can’t help but blame myself…” her voice cracked.

His eyes shot up.  “I learned long ago that one cannot shoulder the blame for the actions of another, Alicia,” he said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder.  He set his tumbler on the coffee table.

“Logically, I know that.  But the nagging emotion remains,” she sighed, taking another sip of her drink.  She set the near-empty tumbler on the coffee table, and slowly leaned into Mycroft, resting her head on his chest quietly.  Surprised, he awkwardly put an arm around her shoulders, trying to be comforting. 

For several minutes, she clung to him in silence, his shirt damp with her tears, as he soothingly rubbed her back. 

Finally, she sat up and looked into his eyes.  He handed her his handkerchief, and she dabbed her eyes, now red-rimmed.   

Her eyes searched his for a moment, and she reached up to cup his cheek, and kissed him softly on the mouth.  Her tongue brushed his lips, seeking entrance, and his gasp of surprise allowed it.  She curled her hand around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. 

He pulled away with a groan.  “Alicia… no,” he said, almost sadly.

Tears started to well up in her eyes again.

“This is not what you want.” He looked into her eyes tenderly. 

“Yes, it is,” her voice quavered.  “I want to feel desirable again…”

He smoothed a thumb across her cheek, wiping away a single tear.  “I understand.  I truly do.  But, I am better suited to be your… friend.”  He kissed her on the forehead, for all the world like an elder brother comforting his sister.

She sniffled.  “Yes… yes, I suppose you’re right.  Thank you, Mycroft.” 

**Author's Note:**

> My muse took a drastic turn as I was about 2/3's through writing this - what was going to be a tender, romantic, sexy interlude between Mycroft and Alicia became completely impossible. So, I had to find a way to let poor Alicia down gently. 
> 
> I hope I've succeeded.


End file.
